


Dibs

by Inell



Series: 2K Giveaway [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Actor Derek Hale, Actor Jordan Parrish, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Attraction, Bisexual Derek Hale, Bisexual Jordan Parrish, Choreographer Stiles Stilinski, Closeted Character, Competition, Established Derek Hale/Jordan Parrish, Flirting, Getting Together, Jordan/Derek are Not Out, Lip Sync Battle, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mention of So You Think You Can Dance, Multi, Pansexual Stiles Stilinski, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 06:30:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10634211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: Derek loses a bet to Jordan, which results in them being booked on an episode of Lip Sync Battle. Derek’s annoyance turns to pleasure when they meet the choreographer for their episode, Stiles Stilinski, and they realize they both want him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thepsychicclam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepsychicclam/gifts).



> This was written for @thepsychicclam who won my 2K Giveaway! One of the ships prompted was Jordan/Stiles/Derek, and I decided to give it a try because I’ve never written it before. I really hope you enjoy this one, bb! Congrats on winning!

 “I still can’t believe you talked me into doing this,” Derek mutters as he follows Jordan onto the soundstage. The set is new for this season, and he’s feeling a slight panic as he looks at all the empty seats that’ll eventually be full of audience members watching his upcoming humiliation.

“I won a bet,” Jordan reminds him, the smile on his face smug to anyone who knows him well. To anyone else, it probably looks wholesome or possibly mischievous, but no one would _ever_ think that Jordan Parrish, Hollywood’s brightest star and all around good guy, is actually an evil asshole. Well, evil might be stretching it, but Derek isn’t feeling very generous today.

“A bet that was totally rigged in your favor.” Derek glares at Jordan because he’s still a little annoyed at himself for getting so caught up in the game they’d been watching that he failed to realize Jordan was Up to No Good with his innocent offer of a bet.

They’ve been best friends since they filmed _Boys of Summer_ together as teenagers, which had been more than a decade ago. They’ve been friends with benefits since they were in their early twenties and realized that being bi in Hollywood could be risky for two young actors being proclaimed ‘the next big thing’ and booking roles that were turning them into household names. The friends to benefits thing sort of changed into something more after a few months, and now they’re just Derek and Jordan.

Their relationship is definitely not traditional, seeing as they’re open to dating other people, but it works for them. The dating other people thing has never become that serious, never reached a point where either of them met someone they liked enough or were attracted to enough to bring into _their_ relationship fully. Their bromance, as the tabloids love to dub it, is an easy cover for what their relationship really is, and it means they can be affectionate in public without too much risk.

They just haven’t reached a point where they’re willing to let strangers know their personal business by coming out as a couple who happens to be open to polyamory. That’ll wait until they’ve made enough money and got tired enough of the Hollywood bullshit that they’re good with not booking any more roles if people can’t accept them as they really are. Or until they’re tired of hiding who they really are and decide fuck it, that their happiness is more important than what other people think.

Jordan totally plays on the fact that he projects such a sweet ‘boy next door’ appeal to get what he wants whenever he sets his mind to something. Derek should have remembered that before accepting the casual bet proposed when the Dodgers were winning. Jordan is a Cubs fan, just to be a contrary ass because Derek’s a California boy who grew up going to Dodgers games with his dad and uncle. The bet totally cursed the Dodgers, because they started losing as soon as Derek accepted Jordan’s terms.

Of course, at the time, he’d figured Jordan had some kinky scenario in mind since the terms had just been a vague ‘agreeing to do anything I want’, which was usually code for ‘let me tie you up and spank your ass’ or some other sexy time play that wasn’t in their usual sexual rotation. Instead, Jordan had got them booked on fucking Lip Sync Battle, which is one of his favorite shows and one of Derek’s worst nightmares. He isn’t the appealing handsome guy like Jordan who’ll have the audience eating out of his hand.

No, he’s the tough and edgy actor who seems to intimidate more than attract. Just because a guy doesn’t like fake ass kissing and publicity, he gets labeled broody and mysterious. Not that that stops him from getting named to the Hottest Actors lists, but still. It’s not really who he is, not that he cares to show off his dorky side to strangers anyway. There’s no way he’s going to be able to compete against Jordan on this damn show without shelving his tough guy attitude, though, because this show makes everyone who appears on it look pretty stupid. Funny and relaxed, but still stupid.

“Der, you’re space casing on me,” Jordan murmurs, squeezing his bicep to bring him out of his thoughts. “I was telling you that there wasn’t any rigging involved. How the hell did I know the Dodgers would flake out and lose their lead? I just figured it was one of those win-win kind of bets since you’re always _so_ creative when it comes to winner’s choice terms.”

“Yeah, well, I was thinking the same thing, only you took my trust and stomped on it by booking us onto this dumb show.” Derek arches his brow and purses his lips. “You should have asked Erica. You know she’s all about looking silly.”

“I didn’t want to beat Erica’s ass. I want to beat yours.” Jordan waggles his eyebrows in a way that turns the casual taunt into an innuendo. “Anyway, America needs to know that you’re actually a big geek and not some moody method actor the way the tabs like to claim.”

“I don’t care what America thinks,” Derek points out, reaching out to punch Jordan’s arm when he just laughs. Obviously, that’s not completely true since they’re keeping their sexuality and relationship private right now, but he likes to think it’s more true than it probably really is.

“You want a chance at a franchise, buddy. That means being appealing and family friendly.” Jordan smiles the smile that won him the lead in Olympus. “I still think you should read for Ares, you know? Blake’s planning on starting the casting for Pantheon soon, and I know you’d love the script.”

“I know, and I’ve told you that I’m more a superhero guy than a mythology guy,” Derek says, shrugging a shoulder. There are rumors of another Superman reboot going around, a lighthearted take echoing back to earlier comics, and he’d be lying if he denied being totally interested in that possibility.

“You can do both.” Jordan curls his lips into a pout that he knows Derek isn’t often able to resist. “You could check out the Pantheon script, at least. Right?”

“Fine. I’ll read it.” Derek shakes his head when Jordan grins. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to audition for Ares.”

“You totally should.” Jordan leans in a little closer. “He and Poseidon are particularly close in the script.” The husky tone to Jordan’s voice makes Derek’s eyebrows raise in surprise because he knows the Olympian franchise is way too family friendly to go full Greek with their mythology. Jordan just smiles as he leads him down a hallway towards the dance studio. “Read the script. I think you’ll enjoy the chance to play someone volatile and dangerous who also happens to be very pretty and intelligent.”

“What are you trying to say, Parrish?” Derek sways slightly before the sound of a door slamming reminds him that they’re in public. He punches Jordan’s arm and huffs. “I said I’d read the damn script.” He perks up as a thought occurs to him. “Hey, if I agree to audition, can we cancel this nonsense?”

Before Jordan can answer, a male voice interrupts them. “Hale and Parrish? You realize you aren’t supposed to show up at the same time, right? There’s this whole manufactured battle thing that’s part of the show’s name.”

Derek looks over and blinks when he sees a guy standing there with a slight smirk on his full lips. He’s gorgeous, with an upturned nose and moles and messy hair that looks like he just had amazing sex. He’s Derek’s height, broad shoulders, tapered waist, and very muscular legs on display in the loose basketball shorts he’s wearing. Derek glances at Jordan and sees a similar awe struck look on his boyfriend’s face. “We, uh, we were told be here at noon,” he says, looking back at the guy.

“Probably Liam. He’s new, and I’ve heard Scott, the executive producer, complaining about time sheets and screwed up schedules. Sorry about that.” The guy looks at them both, looking them over in a way that Derek totally recognizes as ‘with interest’ before he’s smiling like he wasn’t just checking them out. “I’m Stiles, the choreographer assigned to your episode. I’m sure you were expecting Kira, but she’s away for a few weeks, so you’re stuck with me.”

“You’re Stiles Stilinski,” Jordan murmurs, his voice taking on that slightly high tone that Derek teases him is his fanboy voice. Derek looks at him in surprise because he’s not expecting to hear that for this guy, even if he’s ridiculously hot and has fingers that have Derek’s mind venturing into x-rated territory. “I saw your season of So You Think You Can Dance, and you were so talented. God, that final dance to Hallelujah was so brilliant. You were totally robbed of a win.”

Stiles ducks his head, but not before Derek can see the blush splotching out on his face. “Dude, that was like eight years ago. Caitlyn totally deserved the win, though. She was awesome, and I can’t really complain since second place still came with enough publicity to let me open up my own studio and form my own troupe.” He glances up through his lashes in a way that is totally a Seduction Trick because it makes Derek’s breath catch, and he can hear Jordan gulp from beside him. “Thanks, though. Nice to know Mr. Hollywood is a fan. What about you, big guy? You a fan, too?”

“Jordan’s the reality T.V. trash, I’m afraid,” Derek says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “We didn’t become roommates until we were like twenty-one, so that was a couple of years after your season, sounds like.”

“Don’t let him fool you, Stiles. I’ve got him addicted to some of my trashy reality T.V., but he’s right. I watched you before he and I started sharing a house.” Jordan is still staring at Stiles like he’s an enamored puppy, and Derek can’t help but look around to make sure no one is paying them any attention because Jordan’s practically drooling.

“Well, I’m glad to know at least one of you is ready for the workout that I plan to put you through.” Stiles looks at them and his smile turns sly, even more mischievous than Jordan’s worst ‘I’ve got an idea that’s totally going to get us into trouble but it’ll be worth it’ smile. He winks before saying, “While I can totally handle both of you at once, would _happily_ do it, the rules say one at a time due to the whole contrived battle drama, so who’s going first?”

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Jordan suggests, looking at Derek and grinning. “Or I can go first since you’re here under protest anyway.”

“I’m not going to give you an advantage of extra time to practice, Jordan,” Derek says, rolling his eyes. “I plan to win, after all.”

“Ha! Not likely.” Jordan smiles confidently. “I’ll be the victor, and you’ll be crying in defeat when I finish with you.”

“Bet I do,” Derek challenges, arching his brow and smirking slightly when Jordan narrows his eyes. “Bet I win this ridiculous battle, and you’ll be the one crying when I finish with you.”

“You’re on.” Jordan holds out his hand so they can shake on it, make it official. Derek grips his hand and squeezes, dragging his thumb over Jordan’s knuckles in a deliberate caress. “What are the terms?”

“Dibs.” Derek looks at Stiles, who is watching them closely. He lets go of Jordan’s hand, feeling the top of his ears heating up as Stiles gives them an assessing look. One that seems to see beyond the bromance. “I mean, we’ll, uh, discuss that later.”

“I’m good for dibs,” Jordan says firmly, grinning at Stiles in a way that makes hearts flutter and panties wet. Of course he knows what Derek’s talking about— _who_ Derek’s talking about. Normally, they don’t really share the same taste in potential other partners, which makes it easier to date someone else without complications.

Stiles is going to be a complication, though.

They’re both attracted to him, and Jordan’s got some kind of ‘wet dream come to life’ expression on his face when he looks at Stiles, which makes Derek want to know details about that season of the dance show and what exactly Jordan _did_ while fanboying Stiles. He’s figuring there was a lot of masturbation and fantasies involved because Jordan had done a lot of that before their friends with benefits arrangement happened. And Derek. Well, he’s definitely interested in Stiles sexually, but he’s also intrigued by the intelligence he sees in those pretty brown eyes and the laugh lines evident whenever Stiles smiles.

He doesn’t want to just fuck Stiles; he wants to ask him out, wants to date him, wants to see where things might go.

“We’ll talk about it tonight,” Derek murmurs, giving Jordan a pointed look before focusing back on Stiles. “And I’ll go first. I don’t dance, so I need all the time and help I can get.”

“What’s dibs?” Stiles asks bluntly, looking from one to the other. “Normally, I don’t give a shit what celebrities are coyly discussing, but I get a feeling that this involves me, so I want to know.”

“It’s just something private between friends,” Jordan says smoothly, seeming to remember that they’re on a soundstage in Burbank, not in an anonymous gay club in Europe. “But I’m letting Derek go first because he’s right. He doesn’t dance, and I want this to at least be a challenge when I defeat him. It’s not fun if I just win by default.”

“Fuck you, Parrish,” Derek mutters. “I don’t dance but I _can_ dance. Kind of.” Derek scowls at him, which makes Jordan laugh. “Asshole.”

“Der, we’ve been friends since we were fifteen. I’ve seen you dance. Kind of isn’t the right choice of words.” Jordan laughs again and squeezes his bicep. “Don’t worry. You’ve got a great ass and that pretty face, so just make sure to choose tight pants for the final number, and you’ll do fine. Maybe go shirtless, too.”

“Holy shit,” Stiles whispers. “You two are totally fucking, aren’t you? I mean, fuck. Don’t answer that. I’m not into forced outing at all. That just sucks, and it’s no one’s business but your own. But holy shit.”

“What?” Derek looks at Stiles, narrowing his eyes as he tries to think what they’ve done that might give them away. Their relationship is notoriously affectionate and teasing, hence the whole bromance label, and it’s not that they’re ashamed of being bi or loving each other, but they know they won’t get the kinds of roles they really want if their relationship overshadows their talent due to publicity and shit.

“Dude, I’m pan, and I’ve got straight buddies, but I’ve never looked at any of them the way you two look at each other,” Stiles says, keeping his voice low and quiet. Derek appreciates the attempt at secrecy, but he’s also a bit worried that he and Jordan aren’t nearly as closeted as they think if some guy they just met figured it out.

“We appreciate your discretion,” Jordan says, also speaking quietly. “You know how the business can be, and we’re both private people who don’t want a bunch of strangers knowing our business.”

“I get it.” Stiles nods. “It’s your business, no one else’s. I won’t say a word. But you might want to keep the eye fucking down to a minimum when you record the show because people aren’t that oblivious.”

“Do you want to go out sometime?” Derek finds himself asking, a bit surprised at the question even if he’s been thinking about it since he first looked at Stiles.

“Huh?” Stiles gapes at him. “Like a friendly outing? Between new friends? That kind of going out?”

“Like a date,” Jordan answers for Derek. “We’re both interested, obviously, and we’re polyamorous. What Derek’s asking is if you’d like to go out with _us_ because we’d like to get to know you better?”

“Yeah, he’s right.” Derek nudges Jordan’s arm with his elbow, sharing a smile that’s probably as relieved as he feels. “We normally aren’t into the same person, but we seem to be this time, so. Sharing is less complicated than dibs, don’t you think?”

“And you _did_ say that you could handle us both,” Jordan adds, lips curving into the sexy smile that no one can really resist.

“This is a lot,” Stiles admits, blinking at them. “You two are—“ He waves his hands in the air as if that’s somehow explaining what he’s thinking. “And I’m—“ His fingers are very distracting, and Derek can’t help but imagine them wrapped around a certain part of his anatomy. He then thinks about them on Jordan, watching Jordan fall apart as Stiles touches and plays while Derek watches. He clears his throat when he realizes Stiles is staring at him with his mouth hanging open, lips wet and parted, pupils slightly dilated. “You’re dangerous.”

“I know,” Derek drawls, smirking as he leans in closer than is appropriate when someone could easily see them but unable to resist. “You don’t have to give us an answer yet, Stiles. After the show finishes filming, you can tell us if you accept our offer or not.”

“That gives us several days to persuade you,” Jordan says, his smirk rivaling Derek’s as he steps closer to Stiles. “If you need convinced?”

“This is going to be a long week,” Stiles groans, reaching out to shove them both away with a laugh. “I don’t need convinced; I’m not an idiot. My answer’s yes, but waiting until filming is done is the best idea. I’m not the usual choreographer for the show, but my best friend’s the exec producer, so I need to be professional. Now, stop with the fuck me eyes and let’s get started practicing, alright? Jordan, go find somewhere to lurk that isn’t the dance studio.”

“Bossy.” Jordan looks Stiles over and smiles. “I like it.”

“You would,” Derek mutters, punching Jordan’s arm. Jordan dodges the punch, and they end up wrestling for a few minutes trying to best the other. He brushes his lips against Jordan’s ear as they tussle. “New terms for the bet.”

“Winner gets to have Stiles fuck them first,” Jordan suggests quietly, warm puffs of breath against Derek’s neck. Derek pulls his head back and arches a brow, confused why that would be the terms. Jordan just grins. “I saw him in tights on the dance show. Trust me. You’re going to be begging for it.”

“Oh.” Derek licks his lips and glances at Stiles, who is watching them with a look that’s somehow both amused and totally done with their silly behavior. “I accept those terms.”

“If you two are done reenacting some frat bro scene in a cheesy college movie, can we finally start practice?”

Derek smiles. “Yeah, let’s get started.”


End file.
